


Of genies and wishes

by ratonzita



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Derek uses his words and saves the day, Feels, Fuck Or Die, Happy Ending, M/M, Monster of the Week, Smut, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:41:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29324856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratonzita/pseuds/ratonzita
Summary: The monster of the week comes into town leaving modern mummies in Beacon Hills.Stiles has a plan.It goes terribly wrong.Or does it?
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 2
Kudos: 141





	Of genies and wishes

Stiles was terribly confused. Lydia had barged into his house with Malia and Kira in tow, demanding to have a girl’s night out. Why did that include Stiles, a seventeen-year-old _boy_? He had asked, but Lydia had just rolled her eyes at him and proclaimed his attraction towards men deemed him okay for this night. (Stiles clarified loudly he was bisexual, not only gay. “Same deal, hon”, Lydia had said. Yes, she called him _hon_.) Apparently, she wanted to vent about boys, because Parrish wasn’t being as straightforward as she wanted him to be. He also had growing suspicions that she wanted him to admit out loud his feelings for certain Sourwolf.

They had been driving for thirty minutes already. Lydia had said they were doing this at her place, which was a ten-minute drive from Stiles’ and quite far away from the woods surrounding them.

“Uhh… Lydia, where are we?”

“It’s a shortcut.”

There was a distinctive slur and slow-motion to her voice Stiles recognized perfectly as the banshee in her talking. He looked behind. Both Kira and Malia had noticed as well. He gulped. Lydia was going to be pissed to know that on her free night she had to find a dead body.

She continued driving for another ten minutes before the trees started giving way to buildings. Buildings Stiles perfectly recognized as the gay clubs on the outskirts of Beacon Hills.

Lydia parked near Jungle and walked towards a discreet alley. With a quiet sign, Stiles asked Malia to check the surroundings. Kira and Stiles kept close to Lydia. Suddenly she stopped. Kira stood in front of her waiting as she regained awareness, while Stiles took out his phone and searched for a body.

“Kira? What- where are we?”

Stiles heard Kira saying something about her banshee abilities taking charge when he found the body. Well, body wasn’t right. It looked like a mummy, a modern mummy judging by the clothes. It used to be a really fashionable girl.

“Found it,” announced Stiles. He took photos. “Ok. Kira, call Scott. Lydia, call it in with Parrish. I’ll call my dad.”

“I can’t get a scent beyond spunk and unbelievable levels of lust,” grumbled Malia.

“Can you get anything from the body?” Stiles saw Malia shrug and approach the mummy. “Some fear maybe?”

Malia shook her head. “It just smells old, happy, and horny.”

“Yet that dress is from last season,” said Lydia once she ended her call.

“Scott’s on his way.”

“If it were a stolen mummy, it would have been all over the news…”

“I wouldn’t have been drawn here for a centuries-old death, Stiles.”

“Then we need to figure out what can suck the life out of a girl in a matter of days, maybe weeks; worst-case scenario, hours, probably minutes.”

“Vampires?” asked Kira.

Stiles shook his head. “I don’t see bite marks.”

“At the top of my head, I can only think incubi,” added Lydia.

“They’re here.”

“Who?”

“All of them.” Malia went to meet them halfway and guide them back to the crime scene.

As soon as Parrish caught sight of Lydia, he hugged her. Scott did the same with Kira. While the sheriff was shaking his head next to Derek. Stiles blinked. Since when did Derek and his dad got along?

“Hey, kiddo. Thought you were at home.”

“I was… until Lydia came to drag me out for girl’s night.”

“You’re a guy,” said Derek frowning.

“My point exactly. She just blew it off like dust. Ha, dust. So, we have a mummy.”

The sheriff sighed. “Another one.”

“Another one?” Stiles eyebrows almost reached his hairline. “And I’m only hearing of it now?” Derek was uncomfortably looking at his feet. “How many have you found?”

“Son, that’s classified as it is an ongoing police investigation.”

“With supernatural causes of death. It explains Derek’s assistance and counseling figure. But I’m guessing this is what the second? Third? Fourth? Fifth?” Derek’s shoulders tensed and his scowl deepened. “Fifth mummy and you didn’t think maybe the pack could help? Or, I don’t know, your son with the lore knowledge and google-fu?”

“In our defense, they appeared in two’s on different nights,” grumbled the sheriff.

Stiles barely contained the eye-roll. “Update me then. So we can look for patterns and then creatures.”

“The first two were young women, barely of age,” the sheriff sighed. “The next two were male teenagers.”

“Ok. It doesn’t discriminate gender, has a preference for the young, but not children.”

“The bodies are drained, but there are no puncture marks or bites,” Derek glared at the mummy on Stiles’ back as if he could discover its secrets that way.

“Drain of what? Blood?”

Derek shrugged. “Everything.”

“Everything.”

“Even the organs look like that… dry.”

“So, they’re literally drained of life. No bites or marks means not vampires and definitely not human.” Stiles hummed. That was very specific, a certain idea of what they were dealing with started making an appearance in his head. “Were the others also found near clubs?” Both men nodded. “What were they doing? Was there any change in them from their routine?”

Lydia approached them with Parrish’s jacket on her shoulders. She had listened to the exchange of information and, by the look in her eyes, she was picturing the same creature as Stiles.

“Yes,” said Parrish. “Their relatives said that a few days before they were complaining about, well, different and a number of things, yet after going out and coming back the next morning it was as if their dreams had come true.”

Stiles snapped his fingers as Lydia said, “Genies.”

Derek frowned. “Genies? But they’re not supposed to kill their clients. They feed on the magic of providing happiness through the wishes alone.”

“This could be a genie gone wrong.” Stiles shrugged. “It’s not entirely impossible. Maybe he was something else before, or maybe he fed on something he shouldn’t have and started needing that later on.” Derek was still frowning. Stiles rolled his eyes. “We could confirm with Deaton.”

As Lydia took out her phone with a judging eyebrow towards both Derek and the sheriff to call Deaton, Stiles was already in planning mode. They couldn’t let this rogue, probably feral genie (hey, if werewolves could turn both feral and rogue, why couldn’t a genie?) get its hands on another victim. They probably wouldn’t be able to find it unless it was hunting.

Stiles looked around him once more. All were found near clubs. Then clubs were the hunting grounds as one went there to forget how shitty life was. They needed to bait it into desiring to grant them a wish. It couldn’t be one of the wolves, neither Malia nor Kira, as it would probably recognize them as a threat or something, at least as fellow supernatural creatures. Lydia perhaps, as her banshee aura was a hidden thing. Yet he disliked that idea. That only left him to be bait. Even if he didn’t have a strong enough wish to lure it in (he was consciously ignoring certain fantasies with a blue-eyed full wolf shifter—genies weren’t supposed to grant love anyways), his deep fucked up life could be enough. Perhaps it would just plain give him a god damn new laptop and an unbreakable cellphone.

“I don’t like that look,” the sheriff grumbled as Stiles turned to them just when Lydia hung up.

“We are right.” She flipped her hair back because they were always right. “Genies can go rogue and bad.”

“Great. I have a plan.”

*

Nobody had liked the plan, but they were forced to agree because they didn’t have another. Derek in particular was very adamant on the but’s and what-if’s and was still very grumpy about everything.

They were all going to Jungle. As they mingled, Stiles would be at the bar looking approachable or plain wishing to be approachable in order to attract the genie. Derek would be sulking and keeping a close eye on him, closer than the rest, as Stiles was sure they would get distracted.

Stiles sighed and stared at his reflection once more. Lydia had chosen the tightest jeans and shirt in his wardrobe. He had to give it to her: he looked good—sexy good. The jeans were a dark red and hugged his ass quite nicely. The shirt was black and made his shoulders look wide and his arms to look quite strong. He had noticed his own muscles developing, of course, but right there he could say that they just popped up out of nowhere. He styled his hair in a way Lydia described as ‘I was just fucked but maybe we could have more fun’, meaning as he had just dragged his hands through it for a whole day; which really wasn’t difficult.

With a last look at himself, Stiles left the safety of his house and drove to the loft, where everybody was waiting to head out together. As soon as he crossed the door, the whistles and catcalls began. He blushed and glared at them. Derek had given him one look and turned around to glare at the night through the windows, his jaw clenched. Stiles wondered, again, what the hell was his problem.

“Knock it off, guys. We have a genie to catch.”

They started heading out to the cars. Lydia smirked at him with a proud look in her eyes at making him look hot. Kira smiled sweetly telling him he looked good. Malia pinched his ass, leaving him gaping after her with a blush creeping up his neck. Parrish shrugged and gave him a pat on the shoulder. Scott grabbed his arms and looked him up and down several times, nodding to himself, then looked at him seriously.

“You are the hottest girl, Stiles.”

Stiles cracked up. Scott, satisfied with himself, went out. That left only Derek, who just passed next to him without a glance.

“What? You’re not gonna say anything now?” Stiles caught up to him after a few steps. Derek gave him a side-glance.

“Do you want me to repeat myself and say how much this is a bad idea?”

“Lighten up, Sourwolf, it’s the only idea. I didn’t hear an upcoming plan or a different one from you.”

Derek scowled harder. He was in a really bad mood. “I don’t like any of this,” Derek growled looking at Stiles up and down. It shouldn’t have hurt because it was completely unrelated, yet Stiles felt cold inside.

“Well, you don’t have to. You just have to watch my back.”

He sped up and left Derek behind. Stiles breathed deeply and opened his jeep, letting Scott, Kira, and Malia climb up with him. Derek was going with the Camaro, and Lydia was driving herself and Parrish.

Not later enough they were parking at Jungle. The first nerves started to show themselves in Stiles. He shook his head to push them away. He had a plan to follow, a genie to catch, and lives to safe.

With both Parrish’s and Derek’s looks, they got inside rather fast. The pack spread out to every corner, scouting and giving the place a quick check-up. They weren’t supposed to interact with Stiles unless he had contact with the genie and/or was in danger. They texted that nothing was out of the ordinary. Lydia added some instructions for Stiles only. He had to go to the bar, look hot, and wait to be picked up.

Stiles sighed, but squared his shoulders and walked there. He couldn’t let his insecurities or thoughts about Derek derail him from the task at hand. He flagged down the barman and ordered a beer. He received a smirk, a thorough once over, and the beer itself. Stiles thanked him with a wink and turned to stare at the dance floor.

He made eye contact with a couple of guys, blushing a bit at the looks they gave him like they wanted to get knowledgeable with the insides of his pants. Yet Stiles was looking out for a grumpy wolf. He needed to know where he was to calm his nerves slightly. He found him in a corner scaring off patrons.

Stiles smirked finishing off his beer. “Try not to look so much like a murderer, Sourwolf.”

He received a text with the middle finger. Stiles laughed. He pocketed his phone and turned to ask for another beer, but the barman was already giving him some pink cocktail. Stiles raised an eyebrow.

“The muscled blond guy sends it over. And hey,” he stilled Stiles hand for a moment, “if it doesn’t work out with him, my shift ends at 2 am.”

Stiles grinned. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” He then turned and raised his glass towards the blond guy. He made eye contact and took a sip. “Anything?” he whispered. And, as he received no texts, it meant nothing was found.

Stiles was halfway through his glass when a blond guy approached him. Blond grinned and put a hand on his lower back, dangerously close to his ass.

“Wanna dance?” he whispered in his ear. Stiles shivered. He was about to say no because he was a terrible dancer, but he felt a sort of pull, something that said it was important he agreed.

“Yeah. I like this song.”

He took another sip as Blond tugged him towards the dance floor. Blond kept tugging until they were in the middle of all the bodies. Stiles lost sight of Derek, but he knew the wolf wouldn’t lose him. Blond pushed their bodies together and put sinful hands on his ass. More than dancing, they were grinding against each other, almost humping. Stiles felt exhilarated, almost high on the contact.

“Enjoying yourself?” Blond’s hot breath hit Stiles' neck.

“A bit.”

Blond’s hands surrounded him entirely, leaving no escape from his arms. Stiles couldn’t think of a reason why he would want to leave this man’s embrace.

“Wouldn’t you like something better?”

Stiles thought it was a weird way to phrase a sex or blowjob proposal, but he felt his mind fogging up.

“I can make everything you want real.”

 _Derek_. Stiles’ thoughts immediately turned towards the wolf, because he preferred Derek’s arms above this man’s. He wanted Derek to see him more than just a spaz and a kid, to want him as Stiles wanted him.

“Don’t you want it? Don’t you wish it with your whole being?”

Stiles shook his head, attempting to clear up his brain. It was as if it had stopped answering to Stiles and only answered to Blond now.

“Yeah.” He heard himself answering. And yes, he wanted it. Of course, he wanted it. He was dying for it. But he couldn’t. There was a reason. A very important reason.

“Let’s go somewhere more private then.”

Stiles felt himself being pulled through the mass of bodies. He was feeling dizzy. Everything was distorted. He needed to call someone. He needed Derek.

 _Yes. You’ll have him_ , said a foreign voice inside his head, _and I’ll have you._

Blond had stopped dragging them. They were at a quite discreet corner. A corner where dirty blowjobs happened.

“Shall we seal it then?”

Stiles was pushed into a wall. (He far away thought that was only hot when Derek did it.) Slowly, so slowly, as if time itself had stopped moving, Stiles felt how Blond grabbed his face and tilted his head up. He could feel Blond’s breath on his lips. Just as they were about to touch, Blond snapped at something on his right, snarled, and left hurriedly.

Stiles shook his head. One moment Blond had been there (with maybe purple eyes he had previously thought were green?), then he wasn’t, and then Derek was growling at his face and grabbing him by the arms. Stiles shook his head again, trying to clear it up. He blinked up at Derek. He was saying something. It was maybe his name. Stiles blinked up again.

A second later he was out.

*

Stiles turned in his sleep. Something was out of place. He frowned. His sheets didn’t usually feel that soft. He opened his eyes slowly. That wasn’t his room. Stiles sat up. Those weren’t his clothes. The shirt slipped off his shoulder. The door opened and in came a scowling Derek with a glass of water and some pills. Then Derek’s room, Derek’s clothes.

“What happened?” he croaked.

Derek sat next to him and gave him the water and pills. Stiles gladly swallowed them. In fact, he would swallow anything Derek gave him. He groaned—too early for that and too much of a headache. Stiles grabbed his head.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Stiles scratched the back of his head. “Uh… I got a drink? And I think I danced some.” Stiles frowned. “I’m not even sure why I agreed. I dance horribly and I hated that song.”

“That guy was the genie.” Derek teared up a loose string from his bed.

“What? The hot blond?” Derek frowned and nodded. “You got its scent?” Derek nodded again. “Good. Did it get anyone?” Derek stared at him. “Aside from me.” Derek shook his head. “Are we sure? I mean, ‘cause it can be pretty convincing. It’s got… something.”

Derek put a hand over Stiles’ mouth and glared at him. It had been a while since Stiles had received Derek’s dead glare of doom. Stiles gulped. Oh, boy. He was in trouble.

“We couldn’t find you, Stiles. You stepped into the dance floor and you vanished. There was no trace. Your scent had disappeared completely. It _knew_ we were there. And it didn’t _care_. It took you from us, right underneath our noses.”

Stiles slapped Derek’s hand away. “Well, stop looking at me like that. Like it’s my fault. How would I have known it could do that?”

“You should have been more aware than halfway to drunk,” Derek hissed.

Stiles gaped at him. “I wasn’t near drunk! Not even close to tipsy! I had one beer and a bit of the pink drink! Nothing else!”

“Then why don’t you remember anything else?”

Stiles stood up and paced. Derek had such an angry and disappointed look. He couldn’t bear it.

“I don’t know, okay!” But he did know. The memory of last night was somewhere in his brain. The drink. “The pink drink. The genie sent it to me. What if it put something in it so I would be more pliable?”

“Then you shouldn’t have drinked it!” Derek stood up as well and crossed his arms. Stiles was gobsmacked. Was Derek not trying to help and instead was intent on making him admit an error he did not believe in?

“I can’t exactly sniff out drugs on drinks, Derek! And what the hell! Stop trying to convince me it was a bad plan. It worked! You can track it now.”

“We can’t track it. It shapeshifts everything about it. The pack chased it while you blacked out in my arms!” Derek took big strides and stood in front of Stiles. “You were this close,” he pinched his fingers almost together, “to be gone. It was about to seal the deal. I heard it.”

“Then stop bitching about it! I didn’t seal it! I don’t even remember making a wish! I’m safe! It can’t come after me as he didn’t comply me a wish.”

“It was too fucking close, Stiles! What if I hadn’t gotten there in time? Huh? What would have happened then? We would be filled with dread right now.”

“But it _didn’t_ happen, Derek!”

“You’re always doing stupid things without thinking them through! You’re only fucking human, Stiles!”

And that. That did it. That hurt. That killed a bit of Stiles, left him feeling like he had swallowed crystal, opening up a hole within him that’d never stop bleeding. Because Derek should know, even if Stiles is human, he’s more than fucking capable of pulling his own. More than able to save his life and the others constantly. He was always the one with a plan readied. He might be human, but that did not mean he was weak.

“Then cry me a fucking _river_ when I’m actually _dead_!”

Stiles stormed out of the loft.

*

All in all, Stiles probably shouldn’t have just left like that. Especially without any shoes or phone and in Derek’s pajamas. But he was pissed and hurt. He could handle a walk back to the nearest phone and call Scott, or plain walk to his own house.

He scoffed, not believing himself. He would pace for a couple of streets, then he would end up going back to the loft, give Derek the cold shoulder, change, then call Scott and get back to his place to pour his lungs and heart out.

That’s why Derek wasn’t going after him. He knew he’d have to go back. Stiles fisted his hands and deflated rapidly. He always came back even when Derek was pissed at him and probably disliked everything about him.

Besides, He probably had a point and maybe it had been a bad plan, but it was really the only plan. Yet Stiles had always believed Derek didn’t see him as weak. That was what had really tipped everything over. Because he had believed Derek thought of him as an equal, even when they were different species.

Stiles sighed. Better to go back and call Scott. After sulking some hours (more likely all day and night and the week), he’d figure out another plan. He was turning when a voice stopped him.

“My, my, fancy meeting you here.”

Stiles stumbled backward as he recognized the voice. Blond guy. Genie. He needed to call Derek but he had no phone. He could only yell for him, yet he was frozen on the spot.

“Sorry to leave you hanging like that last night, but, well, I like to take a couple of minutes to seal wishes, and your… friends… would have interrupted that. I don’t like to be interrupted.”

Stiles gulped. Anytime now he’d scream for Derek. Blond gave a step forward, and he found his voice.

“Stay right where you are. I don’t have a wish. We don’t need to seal anything.”

Blond chuckled and its eyes twinkled purple. “Now, that’s not true. I know your deepest desire, Stiles. You can’t lie to me even when you lie to yourself.”

“M-maybe you do. But I don’t care. I don’t want to make a wish. So, leave me alone.”

“Oh, Stiles. You don’t get it.” It smiled sweetly. “Your energy is delicious as it is. I can only imagine what it’ll taste like when your wish is fulfilled.”

As Blond gave another step forward, Stiles decided it was enough. He turned and ran back to the loft, but he managed to step on glass and fall on his hands. He was sure the glass wasn’t there before Blond appeared.

“Fuck!” He took a deep breath, because it was pulsing, hurting like a fucking bitch. “ _Derek!_ ”

Blond was strolling forward calmly. Stiles started backing up on the floor as it was impossible to attempt limping away. Suddenly, there was a loud roar. Blond stopped messing around. It grabbed Stiles' hurt foot and pulled out the glass. Stiles screamed. Blond was about to grab him by the neck when Derek was there pushing it far, far away, with a deep gash on its chest. Derek crouched in front of him, claws and fangs out. Blond laughed.

“Fine. I prefer to kiss it done but this will do.” It shook the glass up like a flag and then licked up Stiles’ blood from it. Derek lunged forward but Blond disappeared in a purple puff.

Stiles was trembling when Derek returned to him after sniffing the air. Derek took one look at his foot and picked him up. Stiles opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Derek’s nostrils and eyebrows silenced him. He threw his hands around Derek’s neck and tried not to think of his impending death (or just how close he was with Derek, how that could probably be the last time they would be in that position, and how they were only close in life-or-death situations). Maybe Derek would cry him a river really soon.

*

Derek left him on the couch and went to the bathroom for the first aid kit. Stiles let himself fall back and covered his eyes with his arm. His heart was racing and his right foot was throbbing. It hadn’t been just a cut. He had felt the glass pierce skin and muscle deeply. Worst of all, now Derek was right: he did reckless, unthought-of, and stupid things. He was a target. The genie had licked his blood. That meant the deal was done, or so it led to believe. Stiles clenched his fist and breathed slowly. He just had to fix it and kill the genie before it drained him first. No biggie.

Derek came back and softly put Stiles’ hurt foot on his lap without saying a word. Stiles could feel the anger radiating off of him and, yet, he started cleaning his wound with care.

“You can say it,” Stiles said and hissed at the iodine. Derek didn’t say anything. He just pulled Stiles’ pain. “You were right, okay? And you can cry me that river now as I’ll be dead soon. I think you’d probably prefer to have an audience and for me to verbally fight back than yelling to a dry corpse.”

The only answer Stiles got was Derek squeezing for a moment his ankle, but he continued treating his wound as if nothing had happened. Stiles stole a glimpse and saw him clench his jaw and his nostrils flare.

“You’re not going to die.”

Stiles scoffed. “I’m just a weak human.” His voice trembled, he wasn’t sure if it was because of anger or hurt or fear.

Derek stopped moving. He pulled Stiles’ arm back and made him look at him. They stared at each other. “You are human but you are not weak,” said Derek once he was sure he had Stiles’ complete attention. “You are one of the strongest and foolishly bravest people I’ve ever met.”

Stiles sat up on his elbows. “Then why did you yell it like an insult just ten minutes ago?”

Derek frowned. “I didn’t. I just-” He exhaled harshly. “You throw yourself into everything without thinking about yourself. You do it because you’re only thinking about others. But you don’t heal like us.” The hand on Stiles’ ankle shook a bit. “You take longer and hurt more. I don’t like it. Therefore, I yell.”

“So, you yelled at me because you’re worried about me.” Derek nodded. “You’re not yelling now.”

Derek breathed deeply. “You smell like pain and fear. I can’t yell at you right now. I also need you with your head clear so we can save your ass.” Derek looked up from his healing task. “Start rambling out loud that thing you call brainstorming and thinking. What did you wish for?”

Stiles fell back again and huffed. “I didn’t wish for anything. Never even said the words ‘I wish’. But… it said it could read me? That it knew my-” _deepest desire even when he was lying to himself._

“Knew your what? Your wish?”

Stiles stared at the ceiling because it couldn’t be, could it? His deepest desire, aside from seeing his mother again (which was impossible even for a genie), was Derek. A desire he denied himself again and again because Derek would never reciprocate, at least not when he was still underage. And probably never as he hadn’t shown any signs of interest. At all.

“Stiles?”

Derek shook his leg. Stiles’ eyes went to him. Derek was carefully putting a bandage over his wound. Was Derek healing him, taking care of him, because of the wish? No, no. Stiles gulped.

“Do you…” Stiles cleared his voice. “Do you feel any different? Like is there magic around us or something?”

Derek frowned but didn’t let go of his ankle when he was done with the bandage. “Why would there be any magic right now?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s a sign that the wish is supposed to start or something? Why did you even ask what I wished for? Isn’t that a way to jinx wishes? I’m pretty sure there’s a superstition of the sort somewhere in the world.”

Derek looked at him like he was an idiot. Stiles’ dread lessened. That was a normal look. “You’re already jinxed. And I asked to know how much time we have to plan and find this thing.” He sniffed the air then. “There’s no magic.”

Stiles nodded several times. “Okay, okay. Maybe we’ve got some time. I don’t feel any different. The others felt happy, right? I’m not. I’m…terrified. I don’t want- I think I know what it thinks I want? But I don’t want that.” Stiles clasped his trembling hands. He was sure Derek heard a blip in his heart (because he definitely wanted Derek). “Not like this. Maybe it read it wrong? My brain was quite fogged up and cloudy last night.”

“Or maybe you’re just resisting the magic better than the others because you are aware of it.”

Stiles’ left leg started jumping and jiggling. He couldn’t be sitting anymore. He stood up and started pacing.

“But there’s no fight in me. Not like, like the nogitsune. It’s all me in here. There’s nothing to resist. I don’t feel anything magical happening.” Derek was looking at him wide-eyed as if he’d grown horns. Stiles panicked a bit. “What.”

“You’re walking.” Stiles frowned. Of course, he was walking. He wasn’t crippled. “You had ten centimeters of glass inside your right foot. You shouldn’t be able to stand on it, much less likely walk.”

Stiles looked down. And yes. There was the bandage Derek had just spent careful time to put on. He didn’t feel any pain or discomfort. He knew werewolf’s pain mojo wasn’t that good. Not even morphine did that. Stiles sat down and quickly ripped off the bandage.

There was no wound.

Stiles gulped. They stared at each other. “You think, maybe…?”

Derek nodded. “I think your wish is probably at work now. That was definitely magic.” Derek sniffed his foot. Stiles barely suppressed a giggle. “There’s a slight residue.”

Stiles searched Derek’s face. He still didn’t look any different. Stiles bit his lip. Maybe he had a new unbreakable phone after all?

“We need to call the others. Deaton.”

Stiles stood up and went to Derek’s room. His phone was probably there. Meanwhile, Derek picked up the first-aid kit and went to the bathroom. As soon as either of them was about to cross the threshold of their respective doors, they doubled over in pain. Stiles fell on his ass. Derek was gripping the door with his claws.

“The fuck was that?” Stiles hissed breathlessly. It had felt like his heart was being shredded and pulled through his back. Derek grunted in response and stared at Stiles’ figure on the floor.

“Try to take a step forward,” he suggested.

Stiles nodded, took a deep breath, and struggled to stand up. He inhaled deeply, raised his foot, and before he even had the chance to make a single step, the pain started showing itself. Derek was grunting as well. Stiles turned back and took a few steps towards the wolf, who stared at him. Stiles gulped.

“So… looks like we’re somehow bound.” Stiles scratched his head and breathed out slowly. His lower lip trembling. This had to be his wish starting to work. “Maybe… maybe it was a collateral effect of the magic? Like when it starts working it binds whatever’s, whoever’s, close? I mean you guys did find them in twos, right?”

Stiles gulped again. Derek was frowning. “You don’t believe that. And the last one was alone.”

Stiles shrugged. “Maybe not. But it’s possible, right?”

Derek slowly nodded. “We should call Deaton and the others.”

“Right. Right. Good thinking. The others. Deaton. Right. On it.” Stiles took a few steps towards Derek’s room, stopped, and turned around only to bump into Derek. “Oh. I was just gonna- say you should follow. Because pain. Bad pain.” Stiles scratched distractedly at his chest, trying and failing not to stare at Derek’s biceps.

Derek rolled his eyes and pushed him back to the path to his room. He picked both their phones, giving Stiles his own, and went back to the couch. Stiles hesitated following at the bedroom’s door.

Stiles kept twirling his phone until Derek raised an eyebrow. “Do you mind if I talk to Deaton in here?”

Derek frowned and shrugged. Stiles nodded his thanks and closed the door for a simulation of privacy. He didn’t doubt Derek would listen in like the worry nosy creeper he was. Stiles sighed and dialed.

“Beacon Hill’s veterinary clinic. Dr. Deaton speaking.”

“Hey,” Stiles muttered, “do you have time for a consultation via phone call?”

“Of course, give me a moment to get Mr. Monjo back into his cage.” There was a loud meow along with some hissing, then Deaton was back. “Is the genie situation handled?”

“Depends on your definition of handle,” Stiles gulped at Deaton’s silence. “So, it found me and granted me a wish, supposedly.” He could feel Deaton’s judgmental stare. “Okay. It did but I’m not seeing it happen? Except it healed my foot, that it hurt by the way, and now Derek and I are bound? We can’t get more than six meters apart without feeling an excruciating pain on the chest.”

Deaton hummed. “Is your wish related to Derek?” Stiles said nothing, eerily aware of the silence behind the door. “I see. The pain you’re experiencing is a result of resisting the wish’s magic.”

Stiles frowned. “What?”

“You’re not allowing your wish to come true. I do not need to know the reasons behind this. However, the pain will only increase as the distance will shorten itself more and more if you keep resisting it.”

“So, what do I do?”

“Fulfill your wish.”

“But if I do that, the genie will come eat me and kill me,” he deadpanned.

“You’ll die either from the pain or by the genie. Yet the pack could prevent the second one from happening, the first though...”

“How will it work if I know it won’t be real?” Stiles whispered.

“Believe, Stiles, believe.” Then, he hung up, deeming the conversation over.

Stiles let his phone drop and put his head between his knees. Either way, he’d die. If he resists, the pain will kill him, maybe both. If he lets the wish run its course, he’d be breaking his own heart, and then the genie would drain him. Either way, he was fucked.

“Stiles?” Stiles tensed up, hunching into himself as Derek hovered at the door. “The pack’s asking what to do. Should I have them over?”

Stiles shook his head several times. “No, no. I-”

“Okay.” Derek let his hand rest, for a moment, on the door, and left.

Stiles wasn’t sure how much time he’d been curling in on himself, but the pain was starting to show itself, so either Derek wanted to go to the bathroom or the distance was reducing. He heard Derek grunt distantly. Stiles stood up. He wasn’t going to let Derek die painfully because of his feelings. He’d man up, face his wish and go home to die.

Derek looked up from the couch when Stiles stepped out of the room. He was holding his chest. “You okay?”

Stiles shrugged. “Been better. You know without a looming dead threat.”

Derek growled. “You’re not going to die.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Doesn’t matter right now. I’m not going to drag you down with me. So, uh,” he cleared his voice and licked his lips. Was it just his imagination or Derek’s eyes followed the movement? Probably just wishful thinking, or, you know, the plain wish. “I didn’t make a wish out loud, as I already told you. But, um, I may have been thinking of something when it asked? Yeah, and I- I was thinking of, of you.”

Derek nodded along, obviously having followed Stiles’ conversation with Deaton, which of course because creeper wolf was a creeper. And Stiles adored him.

“That’s probably why we’re now bounded and in pain. Sorry, dude. It wasn’t my int-”

“Stiles,” he stopped the rambling. “What do you need?”

“I-” Stiles licked his lips and stared at the wall. There was no way he was saying it while looking at him. Nope. “I… I need you to… to make me feel… loved.”

It’s not like Stiles was expecting an answer, maybe an acknowledgment, but Derek didn’t say anything. And it’d been ages since Stiles confessed his wish, his feelings. Or so it felt like that.

Derek touched Stiles' arm, asking him silently to look at him. He turned his head but still refused to look up into his eyes. Derek raised his face by the chin, searched his eyes, and nodded.

“What do you want to eat?” He let go and went to the kitchen. Stiles followed, because pain-distance, confused.

“What? Dude, I just said-”

“And I heard you.” Derek turned back and pinned him down with the intensity of his eyes. “I’m going to cook you a meal, watch any horrible film of your choosing, and then I’ll fuck you so thoroughly, you’ll be ruined for anybody else. You’ll think of me anytime you see yourself naked. You’ll feel the ghost of my touch whenever my name’s spoken.” Stiles was speechless, blushing, and having difficulty remembering how to breathe. “Objections?” Stiles shook his head and trembled. “Thought so,” Derek smirked, pleased with himself. “Pasta?”

He extended a hand to Stiles, encouraging him to join him on the cooking.

“You know how to cook?” Stiles took his hand. It sent a shiver along his arm.

“Yeah.” Derek’s ears turned a bit pink. “My mom taught me.” He turned around and pulled him along. “Is carbonara okay?”

“That’s the one with tons of bacon, right?” Derek nodded. “Yes! A man after my own heart.”

Derek smiled and flushed Stiles against his chest, making him gasp. Then he caressed his cheek. “What if I am?

Stiles’ heart was beating like crazy. He bit his lip. Derek acting like this should be illegal. He cleared his voice. “Well, I-I’d probably-” Nothing came to mind. Words escaped him completely. Stiles blushed as a thought surfaced. _You already have it, asshole_.

Derek smirked and Stiles worried he’d actually said it out loud. “I think this is the first time you have no come back.”

Stiles punched him slightly and giggled nervously. “I am full of surprises. So, what do I do?”

Derek kept pulling them towards the kitchen and only released him to take out a pan and turn on the stove. “Take the ingredients out from the fridge.”

Stiles settled everything next to the stove. Derek already had a knife and a cutting board out, then he stood behind him to reach the top shelves in front of Stiles for a bowl where to put the pasta afterward. He embraced Stiles without really touching him, surrounding him completely. He set the bowl in Stiles’ hands and whispered in his ear.

“Cut the pancetta for me, will you?”

Derek kissed his neck and stepped away to continue setting everything with a small smile on his face. Stiles would probably die before his wish was done if Derek kept acting so adorable and tempting. Worst of all was going to remember Derek acting as he loved him later.

Between bumping and tickling each other, they kept Stiles out of his damn head until they had the pasta ready in half an hour. Stiles took out plates and set the table, while Derek grabbed a couple of beers and mixed the pasta in the bowl. Derek served their plates then and opened the beers, but before Stiles could start digging in, Derek took his hand softly.

“To one of many meals together,” he said raising his beer, clinking it against Stiles’.

Stiles gulped and smiled. Derek’s eyes and everything was too much. They both took a sip and then dug in. When the first bit of pasta touched Stiles’ senses, he moaned.

“Oh my god, Derek! Why don’t you cook more often? It should be a crime not to share your talents. This is delicious!”

Derek shrugged and, was he blushing? “I don’t like cooking for one.”

“Dude, then cook for pack nights and gatherings. Really, you’ve been holding back on us. Keeping us from this divine flavor.”

Derek chuckled. “Fine, maybe I will.”

“Better than a no.” Stiles beamed and took another moaning bite.

Stiles could feel Derek’s eyes on him throughout the whole meal. They laughed, joked, and talked easily as if they were a regular couple and it was just another day. They both had seconds and toyed with their feet. Stiles’ face hurt with how much he was smiling. When they were done, Derek took the plates to the kitchen, refusing to let him wash them, and sent Stiles to pick a movie. He joined him without delay on the couch with two more beers and no space whatsoever between them. Stiles gulped at his warmth however, he couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste and therefore, chose the first movie he remembered from a list of films he needed to make Derek watch. He picked _WolfCop_ on Netflix.

Derek rolled his eyes at the choice. Stiles bit his lip trying to smother a laugh, which was completely suppressed once Derek’s arm embraced his shoulders, pulling him closer.

“Of course you’d pick that,” Derek whispered to Stiles’ hair. Stiles shrugged and smiled.

“Can you blame me? A werewolf watching the human idea of fictional werewolves. Really. I couldn’t help myself.”

Slowly throughout the movie, Stiles relaxed. He kept on laughing and smothering giggles in his beer as Derek huffed and scoffed repeatedly. He groaned every time the character shifted, hiding his face in Stiles’ cheek or hair.

Then an hour and some minutes later he was watching the credits and Derek was finishing his beer. The nerves returned because the next part of Derek’s plan was sex. The next part was the climax (heh, get it?) of fulfilling all his dreams and fantasies. Stiles toyed with his beer’s label and bit his lip.

Derek set down his beer and turned to him. Softly he took away Stiles’ empty bottle. Stiles took a stuttering breath and pinched his leg. This was going to happen. Derek grabbed his face and looked at him. Just looked for a moment and caressed his arm. He knew Stiles was anxious about it and that he would voice his doubts. Derek didn’t wait long.

“I- I’ve never done this before,” he licked his lips. “I mean. I’m not exactly a virgin. I’ve had sex. Just- with Malia. I- with a guy- I’ve never-”

Derek touched Stiles’ lower lip interrupting what could have easily become a monologue. “I know,” he whispered and looked him in the eye. “Would you prefer to top or bottom?”

Stiles’ eyes opened wide. “T-top?! But I don’t know what to do. I’ve seen porn but I don’t think that’d be enough.”

“I’d tell you what to do. What feels good and whatnot,” he shrugged.

Stiles bit his lip and frowned while thinking. He was kind of shocked Derek even offered. He had always thought of him as a top because of his build. It did appeal to him to have Derek’s everything underneath him. However, the idea of Derek inside of him made him tremble with want.

“I want to bottom.”

Derek licked his lips and closed in to whisper in his ear. “Good. I want to take my time with you.”

Stiles gasped while Derek started nuzzling his jaw ‘til he reached his lips teasingly. One of his hands walked from his thigh to his hip. And, finally, they kissed. Stiles could understand that song now. He knew he wanted Derek’s everything in his life, he just didn’t know he was starving for him until their lips met.

All nerves and anxiety disappeared as Stiles let go. He grasped Derek’s shirt and neck in order to bring him closer. If he only got one chance at this with him, he’d enjoy himself and leave all guilt and fear for later. Derek took in the change gladly by pulling Stiles over his lap in a swift move.

They kissed for what felt like forever. Stiles broke away panting and tried to get some oxygen. Derek took advantage of that moment and bit his neck teasingly. Stiles arched into him with a silent moan. Derek took Stiles’ shirt off. Before he could feel self-conscious about his built, Derek took off his too. Stiles had seen Derek shirtless several times, even his butt when he changed back from wolf form, but this was the first time he was allowed to touch. He trailed both hands up and down, from his chests to his abs to toy with the border of his jeans. Derek let him get his fill, patiently stroking his back until both were no longer breathing heavily.

Derek went back to kiss him. Stiles responded passionately, groping his shoulders and tangling a hand in his soft dark hair. Stiles usually pictured this happening in a flurry of passion after a near-death experience or Derek catching him mid-masturbation session. Yet this slow take of tasting and savoring each other’s lips with hands touching every bit of skin available had been an oddity among his fantasies. It was one of the least believable, but it wasn’t less desired for him. He was glad this version was playing out. It involved feelings of love and affection along with the fiery passion of it all. It made him feel like Derek’s one and only because he sure as hell was his.

Stiles’ gasp for air turned into a moan when Derek nipped and sucked on his neck. His hands dropped to Stiles’ ass and groped. Stiles arched again into him. Both of them groaned as their denim-trapped dicks rubbed against one another. With a push of his hand, Derek encouraged Stiles to hump against him a little while he sucked on his lower lip. Shivers went up and down Stiles’ back.

“Fuck,” he whispered as Derek’s nimble fingers unbuttoned and zipped down Stiles’ jeans.

Derek nuzzled and licked his neck, pushing Stiles’ head back, as his hands slipped into his boxers and grabbed a handful of naked ass. Stiles’ gasp stuck down his throat and turned into a loud mon at the hint of a finger in his back entrance.

There was a gust of air and suddenly he was on Derek’s bed and Derek himself loomed over him. Just looking. Stiles' blush went down his neck but he couldn’t look away. Those wolfish eyes, at times hazel at times blue, were captivating. They looked at him as if they would never dignify another being with a glance as if Stiles was the only one they wanted to stare at.

Derek lowered himself slowly over him and kissed him unhurriedly. One of his hands was busy removing his jeans and boxers while the other gripped Stiles’ hair. Stiles’ hands wandered on his back, detailing the muscles he’s gawked at for so long and in secret, wishing and itching for the moment something like this would happen.

A moan forced Stiles to break their kiss. Derek’s hand was directly on his throbbing dick. Derek smirked at him and pumped him twice before letting go completely. He headed to the nightstand and grabbed a bottle of lube. He dropped it next to Stiles’ legs and took off his jeans.

Stiles gaped. He was going commando. He’d gone commando to the club. He’d been commando all day as he cared for Stiles. And _man_. Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off his cock. Big, hard, and delicious looking cock. It seemed too big to fit inside him. Derek caressed himself feeling a little smug at making Stiles’ dick twitch and his aroused scent deepen at the mere sight of him fully in the nude.

Stiles kneeled in front of him still on the bed with a hand almost touching him, afraid it was all another dream he’d soon wake up. Derek took it and enclosed it around his cock. Stiles’ mouth basically watered. It was so warm and soft, pulsing and eager to be touched. Derek sighed into his lips and devoured them. He slowly pushed him back to stretch on the bed and settled between his legs. Their dicks made contact and, sweet Jesus Christ, dick on dick was the best.

Stiles shuddered. Derek growled low in his throat. He kissed down his chest and uncapped the lube. As he licked and sucked on Stiles’ nipples, his index finger teased at his entrance.

He blew on his nipple, draped Stiles’ knee over his arm, and said, “Breathe.” Docile, Stiles’ inhale was interrupted by a soft moan. Scratch that previous thought— _fingering_ was the best.

That stretch, opening and asking to be let in. That slow burn of being opened and prepped for something bigger and warmer to come. Those sparks that built and grew over each other, becoming more pleasurable and delicious by the inch of finger going in, deeper. The process starting all over again as a second finger entered to play, then a third, and a fourth. He shook—soul, body, and heart.

Then his fingers were gone.

“Der-” Stiles whined into Derek’s attentive lips. The wolf kissed the complaints out of him as the tip of his dick replaced the void he was feeling inside. But he didn’t move further in.

Stiles opened his eyes and found Derek staring at him, waiting for their eyes to meet. He started pushing in.

Scratch everything he ever thought was good and nice in this world.

This.

This was the most amazing thing in the world.

Stiles’ mouth hung open, frozen in a long, silent moan as Derek filled him little by little, making himself a physical home inside him as he had so long ago made one in his heart. All the while he was smiling at him, enjoying every minute shift in Stiles’ scent towards bliss. His eyes, enshrouded in satisfaction, shined and crinkled with an emotion Stiles had never seen on the wolf before.

At this moment—as the full length of his cock entered and he kissed him once more before starting to thrust deeply— Stiles believed in their love for each other. In the holy work of putting the prostrate so far inside a man.

Stiles held on to Derek with everything he had. Arms, legs, teeth, mind, soul. The cadence of his hips was demanding, fulfilling, delightful. Slow but hard, forcing moans and tears of joy to leave Stiles.

It was too much and not nearly enough.

“Derek,” his breathy voice trembled. “More. God, please, Derek, more.”

Hungry, the wolf sucked on his neck and pinched his nipple before increasing his pace, making Stiles shout and yell his pleasure to the four winds. His thrusts were sharp, precise, fantastic. Stiles’ voice rose higher, accompanied by Derek’s groans and grunts until it reached over sound and disappeared right when Derek softly brushed his aching dick with the tip of his fingers.

He felt suspended in time yet completely aware of the sensations in and on his body. The familiar hot splash across his abs. The tightening of every muscle. The slap of skin on skin. The hard throbbing cock within. A second set of hot splashes coating his insides. The low whines hidden in his neck coming from Derek. The wolf’s claws suddenly appearing and grazing him the tiniest bit. Their panting breaths combined. The smell of sex in the room. The sweat on each other and the sheets.

Derek brought him back down with a long kiss and exited him. He replaced his cock with a couple of fingers as his tongue descended to lick his spent junk.

“Derek!” he squeaked and sprang up. Not only was Derek cleaning his abs and swallowing his load, but he was also licking his shrinking dick and pumping his fingers inside of him. He didn’t want him to stop but he was too sensitive as well.

Once he was cleaned and the saliva was cooling, Derek came back up to kiss him and rearranged them so Stiles was resting on his chest.

“You okay?” he nuzzled his hair and held him. Stiles was still panting, and a little dizzy to be honest. He nodded. He felt Derek caress his hair a few seconds and felt him fall asleep. His chest rose and fell softly, peacefully.

If this had been any other situation, Stiles would have let the wolfs’ warmness and exuding tranquility lull him into the land of dreams. But that would mean waking up. That would mean this was over. He didn’t want it to be over. He didn’t want to wake up. He didn’t want to close his eyes and risk all of this fading away.

Besides, his foot was starting to act up. As if the cut had returned. Stiles shifted and looked down. There was a distinct line in his arch. He looked back at Derek, at his calm demeanor. A trace of purple oozed from him.

Stiles gulped down a wave of feels. His wish was done. The genie was reclaiming its magic. And, soon, it’d be claiming Stiles.

As quiet as a mouse, Stiles managed to slip off the bed, leaving the sweet embrace of Derek. He picked up his clothes and dressed, refusing to cry. He didn’t want to leave a sour scent in the loft.

He looked around the place, filled his heart with the wonderful events that transpired in a matter of hours. Let them fill him with love and content. Derek had been perfect. Life wouldn’t get better than this. He resisted the temptation of writing him a note.

He breathed deeply with his eyes closed and thought what he didn’t dare say. _I love you, Sourwolf._

*

Stiles had been strolling and limping in the woods for an hour by now. The genie hadn’t shown its dooming face yet. He probably should have gone home, said goodbye to his dad, call his friends and start a plan. But he didn’t have it in him.

“Here I am, fucker!” He yelled and spread his arms. Tears streamed down his face. “Why wait any longer for the inevitable! Come and get me, you bastard!”

He shouted more profanities at the genie and stumbled. Down he went. His ankle got twisted. His cheek, scraped. His clothes, dirtied and covered in mud. His hair, entwined with twigs. He sniffled and punched the ground.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” A merry voice called out.

Stiles scoffed, glared at the genie, and sat up. “It was fucking perfect,” he hated to admit.

“Oh really?” The genie was kneeling in front of him and tilting Stile’s head back. But the smile vanished from its face. It frowned. “Why don’t you smell like happiness? Where is the glee?”

“Because it was all a fucking lie,” he spat. “Derek would never love me like that of his own free will. It may have looked plausible. It may have felt real. But it wasn’t. You forced me on him. You turned me into _her_ ,” he sneered. Stiles felt disgusted with himself. He dug his nails into the genie’s face and pulled it closer. “So, fucking kill me already.” He opened his mouth into the genie and waited.

The genie was gobsmacked. Instead of the rich flow of blissfulness that’d sustain it, agony flooded into it. It slapped his hands away and scrambled back. Stiles stared confused. Wasn’t it going to eat him?

It shivered and scratched at himself, at his throat and chest. It started wailing, twisting, and coiling unto itself. The trees shook. The ground trembled. Wind started gaining strength. Stiles was blown away and crashed against a tree. Air escaped him. Then the tree grew arms and grabbed him.

The tree wasn’t a tree. He had just left these arms in a bed. He looked up incredulously. Derek was hiding them behind the tree he’d crashed against.

The wailing became piercing and exploded. Derek hunched and covered their heads from the blast. Once the trees calmed down, Derek eased his hold on him. He glanced back at the mess, then at Stiles.

“Why did you leave?” he frowned and whispered.

Stiles couldn’t find his voice. He stalled by looking at where the genie had been. There was no corpse. Only dark slime. It covered everything, then it started evaporating.

“Stiles,” he demanded.

Stiles steeled his shoulders. “I didn’t want you waking up to a mummy,” he mumbled and glared at the ground.

“So, you came looking for the genie? We were supposed to brainstorm how to get rid of it.”

“I think we just did.”

He gripped his shoulders hard, making him wince. “You didn’t know what would happen. You asked it to kill you. With no backup plan. Was it- Was it that awful? Being with me?”

Stiles looked up sharply. “It was perfect, Derek,” he confessed in a low voice. “But it was also fake. It forced me on you. You don’t love me like that.”

“You don’t know anything,” Derek growled. “Genie’s are incapable of creating love.”

“That’s how I _know_ it was fake! Make-believe! Congratz on the acting skills, dude, you could be on Broadway.”

He growled louder and grasped his face. “Urgh, you’re not listening.”

He made him look at the non-corpse of the genie. There was nothing. Not even a speck of the dark slime.

“Is it alive?” Stiles shook his head dumbly. “Good.”

Derek then pulled him into a kiss. It was urgent, needy, terrified, and wonderful. Stiles could barely keep up with him and hang onto his arms. He was left panting seconds later.

“Now you understand, you stubborn ass?” Derek said breathlessly, still holding his face firmly.

Stiles was speechless. Because Derek—the wolfman he’d been lusting after and crushing on for years—was implying he loved him. He even pinched his arm to make sure this was real. Derek rolled his eyes exasperated. He still didn’t believe him.

“It may have forced us to be together, yeah. But everything we did was of my own volition. I’ve wanted to do all of that since you inserted yourself in my life and challenged me every single step of the way.” Derek shook him a little, to make sure he was listening and spelled it out for him. “I love you, moron.”

Stiles breathed anew at his words. He came alive to claim Derek’s lips. For the second time that day, tears rolled down Stiles’ cheeks. Happy tears, his scent told Derek.

“I love you so much, Sourwolf. You have no idea.”

He rubbed their noses together and held him closer. “Then, don’t ever offer yourself on a silver platter to die, okay?”

Stiles nodded repeatedly. “Never again.”

“And never leave my side.”

“I won’t,” he promised, settling his hands on Derek’s chest.

“Until death do us part,” he whispered over his lips.

Stiles’ cheeks pinked at the steady heartbeat under his fingertips and he smiled timidly. “Until death do us part and even then, our ghosts will be together.”

Derek chuckled and finally kissed him again.

And again.

And again.

And forevermore.


End file.
